


Little Demon Goes To College

by fourfreedoms



Series: Accepted Practice [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Overstimulation, Past Underage Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 16:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: It’s been three weeks since he had to leave the lake for home, packing up to get ready for his first semester of college, three weeks since he last saw him. Sometimes he still wonders if that moment on the dock was all a dream, they’d had only a few days.Patrick and Jonny are slowly figuring out what comes next.





	Little Demon Goes To College

**Author's Note:**

> I get asked for timestamps in this universe so regularly I finally gave in. I hope like hell that you enjoy it. I've always considered this universe my pride and joy and in some ways that's what's made it so difficult to revisit it. So without further ado, here is little demon's POV in the aftermath of Out Of The Woods. It's quickly written, but it wouldn't exist without frosting50 being a wonderful sounding board for all my best and worst ideas.

Jonny likes Cambridge well enough, and the classes he’s shopping look to be interesting, however much he can manage to focus on them outside his training for swimming, and the other freshman are all very jealous he lucked into a single in Matthews Hall. But once he’s got his suitcase into his dorm room and said hello to his suitemate, all he can really get himself to care about is the fact that he’s where Patrick is. It’s been three weeks since he had to leave the lake for home, packing up to get ready for his first semester of college, three weeks since he last saw him. Sometimes he still wonders if that moment on the dock was all a dream, they’d had only a few days. 

But Patrick called him every night, and they texted. And Jonny’s here now, he can touch him and kiss him and smell him again. Jonny may or may not have stolen one of Patrick’s many hoodies just before he left for Winnipeg, but he’s worn it so often for comfort, Patrick’s subtle cologne and laundry detergent smell has been subsumed with his own scent. He’s still nervous though. You can’t want something as bad he wanted it, for as long as he did, and not worry it’ll still slip through your fingers somehow, he thinks. 

Patrick’s place is only 15 minutes away on the red line, and ten minutes on Jonny’s bike, but Patrick still insists on coming to pick him up. When the RX-7 roars up in front of him and Patrick leans down to meet his eyes through the window, his Clubmasters tipped forward on his nose, something eases in Jonny’s chest. 

“Am I grabbing you away from a bunch of orientation events?” Patrick asks as Jonny climbs into the car. 

Jonny grins and leans across the console to kiss him, lingering an extra moment to draw a deep breath in. “I would never skip anything important,” he says when he draws back, leaving his hand on Patrick’s thigh. 

Patrick snorts. “As if I’m not familiar with your warped sense of priorities.” 

Jonny would claim offense, but A) he’s not, so why pretend, his priorities landed him here, which is A+ as far as he’s concerned and B) he knows from the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that Patrick means it with affection.

“You hungry?” Patrick asks. 

“I could eat, but…” he draws the syllable out. It’s not like he’s been jerking himself in the shower twice a day imagining _dinner_.

Patrick shoots a look over at him as he merges back into traffic, that dirty flash of a grin that says, ‘yeah, I know exactly what you’re thinking about.’ “Let’s go to my place first then,” he says, “we can figure it out from there.” 

*

Patrick’s place is a modest but attractive one room studio in Cambridgeport. The kitchen has just been redone, but the essential features were obviously room for the flat screen and the ocean of mattress out in front of it. Patrick hasn’t done much to decorate, but he’s got some framed technical drawings leaned up against one of the cabinets waiting to be hung, some hockey memorabilia from his time playing in college, and pictures of him with sisters and friends. There’s no evidence of his parents at all. Jonny bites his lip, he never meant to cost him that relationship. It’s only been a few short weeks though. They could still come around. 

Patrick coming up behind him, sees where he’s looking and misinterprets, wrapping his arms around Jonny’s waist and pressing his lips to a spot just below Jonny’s ear. “I don’t have any of you, yet,” he says, which warms Jonny’s insides up. That feels like a promise of permanence. 

“Welllll,” Jonny says, mischievously. 

“Those don’t count,” Patrick says. “I can’t put your nudes up on my walls.” 

Jonny turns around, enjoying the way Patrick has to tilt his chin up to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t really going for high art when I sent ‘em.” 

Patrick chuckles, backing him up onto his bed and tipping him onto it. “No, what you were doing was being a filthy tease.” 

Jonny shrugs nonchalant, staring up at Patrick. He wants to say a million things then, that he isn’t really, that he always follows through, that he hasn’t slept with that many others, certainly not as many as he let Patrick believe. Instead he tugs Patrick down on top of him, groaning as their mouths connect, his reassuring weight blanketing Jonny’s body. He pulls away only just long enough to whisper, “Missed this.” 

“Fuck, get this off,” Patrick growls, tugging at his sweatshirt and tee, until Jonny goes to pull it up over his head. He stops him when Jonny’s arms are still caught in the fabric, pinning his wrists to the bed and mouthing along the column of his throat and down over his chest, while Jonny arches, caught. 

He fucks Jonny like that, his hands still knotted up in the fabric of his shirt, holding him flat to the bed as he gets in deep, makes Jonny gasp and choke and cry out, thighs winding ever tighter around his hips. 

“Missed this too,” Patrick says, as he thrusts in over and over, barely giving him room to breathe. 

Patrick comes first with a muted curse, but when he goes to pull out, Jonny flexes his thighs, keeping him in. “Stay, stay,” he says. He just needs this for a moment longer.

And the way Patrick looks at him, it echoes through his head, _I know you love me, I know you love me, I know it_ , a sentiment he’d alternately unearthed and buried in his own heart this summer when Patrick had been so conflicted still about his age, a thing that had never caused Jonny a moment of lost sleep. He cranes his head up to kiss him and when Patrick reaches between them to start pulling him off in slow indolent strokes, he doesn’t last long at all, Patrick still hard inside him, still rubbing against that tender spot inside. 

Finally Patrick lets go of his wrists and Jonny breaks free of the restraining grip of his sweatshirt, arms going up around him. He thinks he could lay like this for hours, wrapped around Patrick, pressed underneath him. Patrick kisses him so gently, like he’ll break, which is foolish, because Jonny has always worried more for Patrick than Patrick needs to worry about him. 

Eventually his stomach growls, ending the moment. Patrick chuckles, dropping his forehead to Jonny’s shoulder. “Let’s shower and I’ll order some pizza.” 

*

The shower ends up being longer than either of them meant, there’s still so much stuff they’ve never been able to do, because in the entire time they’ve been together, four years ago and this summer, they’ve never truly been alone, always countless family members underfoot or neighbors in full view on the lake. It’s different to be able to take their time. By the time they get out, they’re pruny and Patrick has several missed calls and a voicemail from his mother. 

He furrows his brows, looking worried, as he settles back on his bed with just a towel around his waist and his phone in hand. 

“Is everybody okay?” Jonny asks. 

“I dunno,” Patrick replies, chewing at the edge of a nail. 

He presses play and lifts the phone up to his ear, but the speaker is loud enough that Jonny can hear her voice, in nearly perfect clarity, “‘Patrick, it’s your mother, I hope you’re doing well, we haven’t really heard from you these last few weeks.’”

Patrick snorts and Jonny busies himself in the kitchen, getting a glass of water, trying not to look like he’s listening. 

“‘I saw on facebook from Jackie’s post that you’re seeing Jonny tonight,’” she interrupts herself to clear her throat, “‘and I have to say, I’m very concerned for you. I was just wondering if you thought about how that looks to everybody—’”

Patrick makes an ugly noise, deleting the message before he hears more and tossing his phone aside onto the bed. He looks over at Jonny and Jonny guesses he doesn’t school his expression fast enough, because Patrick sighs. 

“How much of that did you hear?” 

Jonny bites at his lip, hesitating. He doesn’t know what the right answer is. He doesn’t want to give this up, but maybe— “All of it,” he says in a rush, dropping his eyes. 

Patrick tugs on a pair of boxer briefs and pads up behind him. “Hey,” he says fiercely. “You get that I don’t care, right?” 

Jonny closes his eyes, hand white knuckled on the counter. He can’t look at Patrick’s beautiful blue eyes and burnished lashes and push these words out of his mouth. “But it’s your family.” 

“Hey, look at me,” Patrick frames his face with his hands. “We already did this, Jonny. It’s done. There’s no undoing it, there’s no unknowing it. If they care more about what other people think, what do I do with that?” 

Jonny shakes his head, because he honestly doesn’t know. He’s never cared. Of course it’s easy to say, he has his parents’ trust and he’s a good student, he doesn’t binge drink, he doesn’t do drugs, his swimming got him recruited to Harvard for fuck’s sake. So Patrick is older, it’s not like he’s dating some 30-year-old heroin dealer out in Kennebec. 

Patrick tugs him in close. “How do I give up what I want for _that_?”

Jonny kisses him and it devolves as these things always seem to do between them, until Patrick’s sitting braced on his lone kitchen chair, his hands bruisingly tight on Jonny’s hips as he rides him, hole still wet and slick from the first time. Nothing feels as good as this. He leans back to get an even better angle, Patrick’s flushed face strobing before him, and Patrick moves his hand with him, palm in the small of his back, helping Jonny grind on him. 

Jonny, still sensitive from earlier, knows he isn’t going to last long, but when he realizes just what Patrick’s middle finger is tracing out onto his back, he loses it altogether, coming so hard he shakes like he’s been zapped by a livewire in Patrick’s lap, corners of his eyes going damp. 

“Fuck, Jonny,” Patrick breathes, “can you take it?” 

Jonny nods drunkenly, dropping his forehead to Patrick’s shoulder as Patrick groans and snaps his hips up. And it is a lot. For others it would be too much, but Jonny just tightens his hands on the back of the chair and rides it out, that too much feeling that lights up the backs of his eyes and makes his breath come short somehow just right. When Patrick comes he finally lets himself go boneless. 

It takes him a few moments to come back to himself. 

“You okay there,” Patrick says, hoarsely pressing lips to his temple. 

“Mmhm,” Jonny nods dreamily, giving himself just a few more seconds. He weighs more than Patrick now, so he knows he has to get up, but it’s gonna take a supreme act of will to get his legs to do what he wants right now. Slowly, slowly he totters up off of Patrick’s lap, feeling his come slicking down his thigh. 

“Gonna need another shower,” he says, and he sounds almost drunk. 

“Mmm,” Patrick says, stretching his arms over his head, and cracking his neck, “how about a bath?” His eyes laugh, like he thinks that Jonny is about ready to keel over.

They end up only going in for a quick rinse off, because after two rounds, they’re both starving, so they eat pizza ordered off of seamless in Patrick’s bed and watch a movie, Jonny curled into his side, their hands brushing over the covers. 

“It _is_ better for everybody to know,” Patrick says, apropos of nothing. “Get it out in the open. It’s not that weird.” 

Jonny shrugs, obviously he doesn’t think so. Certainly nobody in his life appears to be bothered. “Joey already knew.” 

“What?” Patrick sits bolt upright, flicking off the tv with the remote. “You—I—how?”

“He saw us,” Jonny says. 

“What! When?” Patrick looks horrified, his voice rising. If he wasn’t so upset, Jonny would laugh. 

“Under the dock,” Jonny says gently. 

“Under the—” Patrick breaks off and stares at him. “He’s known for four years? This whole time?” 

Jonny nods. It wasn’t a big deal. Joey had teased him about it for years, and had only refrained from giving Patrick hell about it when he came back because he’d impressed it upon Joey how guilty Patrick had felt about the whole thing. And maybe also how Jonny absolutely had forty pounds on him and wouldn’t hesitate to beat the shit out of him if it came to it. Not that it would have, Joey was a shithead and a clown, but he was good people, if he’d honestly felt Patrick was forcing Jonny into anything, he would’ve done something about it, told his parents, told Patrick’s parents. There was a reason they let him around fifth graders. 

Patrick’s face is drawn and pale. “But, he’s a school teacher! Shouldn’t he—doesn’t he like—he didn’t report me!” 

“He wasn’t a school teacher at the time, and—” Jonny puts his hand over Patrick’s open mouth before Patrick can interrupt him. “The only one of us who thought you were some kind of predator was you, Patrick.” 

He raises his palm so he can lay a kiss over Patrick’s mouth, pushing him back down to the mattress. When he finally lifts his head, Patrick groans. “It’s still shady as hell.” 

Jonny laughs. “So we won’t tell people that part.” 

“Pretty sure my mother would burn me in effigy if we did,” Patrick says with a laugh. Jonny carefully monitors his facial expression and Patrick smiles, catching him at it. “I’m okay, really.” 

Jonny nods and leaves it at that. Patrick already as good as said he didn’t regret it. Jonny breathes in deep. They’ll be alright. They’ve somehow made it this far. And Jonny intends to hold onto this with everything he has for as long as Patrick will let him.

Patrick reaches over and turns off the lamp on the bed table and then tugs Jonny into his side. 

“C’mere,” he says, molding himself around Jonny, fingertips passing over his heart in that same design. 

_I love you._


End file.
